My early years in school are mostly a blur. Kindergarten, first, second grade - a race to finish the multiplication problems first, a race to establish just who was the smartest kid on the blacktop - we were put into a competitive environment at a very young age.
These early years of elementary school presented very little challenge from what I recall. The kids who were "on top" academically, so to say, were quickly determined and the first few years spent with these new friends were a battle to show each other just who the smartest was. I can't say I was ever on top at eight years old. It was close. Very, very close, but the classroom was ripe with competition for my young, developing mind, and I tried my very best to insert myself into that group of elite at the top of the grade book.
I can remember even as early second grade beginning to procrastinate.
If I could go back in time, I'd pick up my eight or nine year old self and shake some sense into me. If I'd known that even that early on in my academic career that developing that terrible habit that is procrastination would have profound effects on my future, I may have acted differently. Third, fourth and fifth grade, my three most recent years in elementary school, were also my best in a sense. The teachers I had over those three years showed to me traits I knew I'd always look for in my future educators. They were willing to communicate with me, expressive of their thoughts on not only my progress, but also on my shortcomings, they were clearly passionate about what they did, and enjoyed every minute of it, and most importantly, they all pushed us to think outside of the box, and stressed the importance of this skill for us, soon to be members of society.
In fifth grade, one teacher in particular, Mr. Castiglione, made something clear to me. It doesn't matter how smart you actually are. The most successful person in the room isn't necessarily the smartest, and I, by no means mean to say that I was hands down the smartest. However, despite intelligence, our effort is what defines our success, and by pressing into every academic challenge presented to us, "you could be the star." Much to my shame, I let those words slip by, and it wasn't until several years later that I recognized their significance. Even then, in his classroom, I continued to procrastinate. I can't remember ever starting a project early or finishing it early. It was always the night before. Extra credit work was extra. Why would I commit myself to extra work? The ease with which I breezed through my earlier years began to slip away, I was no longer standing at our classrooms academic apex, and I began to recognize that those around me were in fact, working harder.
It wasn't until high school that I realized what I was doing to myself, and as dismal as it may sound, our work in the classroom determines a significant portion of what lies in wait in each of our futures. By behaving the way I did in the classroom, I closed some doors. I closed doors to opportunities I've seen good friends of mine walk through while I look on in frustration. But I can only be frustrated by my own actions. They've earned that right, and while in my early years, I still did well in the classroom, I made some bad decisions concerning my work ethic and priorities that would greatly affect my future.
These early years of elementary school presented very little challenge from what I recall. The kids who were "on top" academically, so to say, were quickly determined and the first few years spent with these new friends were a battle to show each other just who the smartest was. I can't say I was ever on top at eight years old. It was close. Very, very close, but the classroom was ripe with competition for my young, developing mind, and I tried my very best to insert myself into that group of elite at the top of the grade book.
I can remember even as early second grade beginning to procrastinate.
If I could go back in time, I'd pick up my eight or nine year old self and shake some sense into me. If I'd known that even that early on in my academic career that developing that terrible habit that is procrastination would have profound effects on my future, I may have acted differently. Third, fourth and fifth grade, my three most recent years in elementary school, were also my best in a sense. The teachers I had over those three years showed to me traits I knew I'd always look for in my future educators. They were willing to communicate with me, expressive of their thoughts on not only my progress, but also on my shortcomings, they were clearly passionate about what they did, and enjoyed every minute of it, and most importantly, they all pushed us to think outside of the box, and stressed the importance of this skill for us, soon to be members of society.
In fifth grade, one teacher in particular, Mr. Castiglione, made something clear to me. It doesn't matter how smart you actually are. The most successful person in the room isn't necessarily the smartest, and I, by no means mean to say that I was hands down the smartest. However, despite intelligence, our effort is what defines our success, and by pressing into every academic challenge presented to us, "you could be the star." Much to my shame, I let those words slip by, and it wasn't until several years later that I recognized their significance. Even then, in his classroom, I continued to procrastinate. I can't remember ever starting a project early or finishing it early. It was always the night before. Extra credit work was extra. Why would I commit myself to extra work? The ease with which I breezed through my earlier years began to slip away, I was no longer standing at our classrooms academic apex, and I began to recognize that those around me were in fact, working harder.
It wasn't until high school that I realized what I was doing to myself, and as dismal as it may sound, our work in the classroom determines a significant portion of what lies in wait in each of our futures. By behaving the way I did in the classroom, I closed some doors. I closed doors to opportunities I've seen good friends of mine walk through while I look on in frustration. But I can only be frustrated by my own actions. They've earned that right, and while in my early years, I still did well in the classroom, I made some bad decisions concerning my work ethic and priorities that would greatly affect my future.